Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“I’m Tessa. Melanie. You know these guys will stand between you and anyone trying to get you here. Right?” I thought I might do well to take my own advice.
Another impact shook the building. Melanie flinched hard and curled tighter into herself. “He’s here,” she whispered. “Oh God, he’s here.”
I put my arm around her shoulders. “Then let’s not be here when he arrives. Let’s put some very strong, locked doors between us and him. Yeah?”
Down the hall, something heavy hit the floor. A door, maybe, or a piece of furniture. Then a man’s voice, shouting orders I couldn’t make out. Boots on hardwood, moving fast.
Melanie’s breathing stopped. Her eyes fixed on the doorway.
I tightened my grip on her shoulder. “Melanie. Look at me.”
She didn’t.
“Melanie.” I put my hand on her cheek, turning her face toward mine. Her skin was clammy. “Whatever happens, you’re not alone. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you. But we need to move. Now.”
The boots were closer. Two sets, maybe three. Moving with purpose. I didn’t know if those were men from Kiss of Death or with whoever attacked Haven from outside, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
Melanie’s eyes found mine. She took a shuddering breath, weighing the shitty options before her. Then she nodded her head. “OK,” she whispered. “OK.”
I helped her to her feet. She swayed, unsteady, and leaned her slight weight against me. I put my arm around her waist and guided her toward the door, away from the sound of approaching boots, toward the safe room at the far end of the hall. We didn’t make it far before another deafening blast knocked us to the floor.
The world went white and my ears -- which still rang slightly -- took another beating and I had the inane thought that I’d never be able to hear properly again. Something hot grazed my arm. What was left of a service door on the outer wall now hung from twisted hinges, a jagged hole where the lock had been. The frame around it had buckled inward, taking chunks of drywall with it.
Smoke poured through the opening. Thick, chemical, nothing like fire smoke. Tear gas, maybe, or some kind of flash-bang residue. It burned my eyes and throat instantly. I coughed hard and my vision blurred with tears from the irritation.
Melanie was under me. I’d landed half on top of her when the blast hit. She wasn’t moving. I shook her shoulder as panic hit me in full force. The calm I’d tried so hard to surround myself with shattered. I knew if she didn’t open her eyes, I’d lose my Goddamned mind.
“Melanie! Melanie, come on!”
Her eyes fluttered open. She stared at me without recognition for a second, then panic flooded back into her expression. She started to scramble away from me, toward the overturned couch.
I grabbed her ankle. “No. Stay down.”
The gunfire started before I finished the sentence. Three rapid shots from somewhere beyond the ruined door, so close the sound was physical. Something hit the wall above our heads and plaster dust rained down. Then return fire. Deeper, heavier reports from multiple weapons. The Kiss of Death guys, engaging to protect their territory and us. I hoped.
Through the smoke, I could see hazy shapes moving in the open. Dark figures pushing through the doorway, met immediately by return fire. One figure dropped. Another retreated. The third kept coming, firing wildly into the room.
I pressed Melanie flat against the floor behind the overturned couch and put one hand on the back of her head. “Don’t move,” I whispered. “Don’t make a sound.”
She was trembling so hard I could feel it through my other palm where it rested heavily on her back.
The gunfire continued in short, controlled bursts. Then sudden, erratic sprays. Bullets punched through drywall, thudded into furniture. A lamp exploded. Melanie and I both whimpered but managed to bite back screams as we covered our heads.
I risked a look around the side edge of the couch. The common area had become a killing field. Smoke hung in drifting layers, lit from beneath by muzzle flashes. I had no idea who was who. I just didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.
I looked back behind us and saw Pippa with several more women and children headed to the safe room. They’d come from a different direction and the only way for them to get inside the safe room put them directly in the line of fire.
A massive shape barreled through the smoke from the right. Gunnar charged between the women and the fighting, planting himself between Pippa and the doorway. He raised his weapon and fired twice into the smoke, then turned, reaching for Pippa with his free hand.
“Get inside --” he started.
The doorway exploded again.
This time, it wasn’t a blast that caused the damage. The entire frame of the building gave way with a shriek of twisted metal and shattered concrete.